Hope (one-shot)
by Maleficent de Vil
Summary: The one where Carlos never loses hope.


Hope

By: Maleficent de Vil

If there was anything in this world Cruella couldn't take from him, it was hope.

Carlos had lots of wishes and dreams, but they weren't really like most kids, he didn't wish for the barrier gone, he didn't dream of burning Auradon to the ground, hell he didn't even care about any of that.

No, Carlos's hopes were very different.

When he was twelve, and a little struggling preteen, trying his hardest to survive the beatings from Jay, Uma, and the rest of the kids who liked to torment him, he hoped for it to end.

And it did, just not in the way he expected. It had been a little hard to see at the time, you know blood and salt in his eyes, but he still remembered her descending to his side like an angel. To this day he had a hard time looking at angel's in the books, they always looked so… tepid.

For whatever reason she'd decided he was worth something, and had tended to his wounds, waiting for him to _heal_.

It had been enlightening as she sat by his side, reading aloud in a language he had yet to learn. The irony as she read about a fallen demon being saved by an angel sent by death to collect him, wouldn't really hit home for a good number of years.

He'd been terrified when she left, what did he have to offer her, how could he possibly stand out compared to the flock of followers who wanted her attention. Would she care if they hurt him, finally knowing how he ended up in the dirt.

But his fears held no weight.

Everyone knew not to touch the angel's things, and to never harm her chances in school.

Carlos just hadn't figured out that he fell into those categories, not until she stepped into weird science that morning claiming a chair beside him. When Yen Sid pointed out this wasn't her class, the angel smiled, teeth shining with promise as she pushed back.

Apparently, she'd had his class when Carlos was in tech 101. Which she'd just been transferred to that morning, meaning her schedule wasn't quite up to date with the rest of the staff yet.

Carlos's counted silently until the teacher left her alone, hands clutched in the fabric of his shorts. The smile she'd given the teacher shift, a bit more knowing, and completely for him as she took out her book ignoring the lesson. Carlos didn't even care he was missing possible test material, he'd catch up later, as he remembers letting himself relaxing being drawn into the quiet whispers that he'd grown so used to.

At fifteen Carlos can admit that he was a bit better off than most. His angel had a hand in that. She'd taken several other followers since then, but Carlos was still off limits to them. He was _hers_. And he loved it.

Cruella hadn't been able to make him break since then, and everyone in school had since learned it was really stupid to beat on him. It was something he never dared dream about.

He'd also started to fill out, no longer able to count his ribs, and his scars were mostly healing and fading, only a few joining the clutter each year.

With all the proper nutrients, and less strain on his body, Carlos's height hadn't been hindered. Though he really did hope he was done growing. Six foot six was tall enough in his opinion, even if his mother still had him by two inches.

Most people no longer wanted to beat him up anyhow. Girls actually tried to get with him, and guys generally didn't want to fight him now that he had muscle and a height advantage.

The only issue was you know puberty. He knew it down to the science, and his angel had even made him look up non-science studies just to be on the safe side. He really hadn't thought about the social benefits people would get from being with him, or how he'd have to be careful to find a person who wasn't going to _abuse_ him like Cruella did Fisher.

In the long run though, the research wasn't actually as needed as he thought. Oh he hit puberty, and he'd started to notice and feeling attraction and _want._ He just wasn't sure if he'd make it out unscathed. After all who's to say his angel felt the same way about him.

Evil knows he hoped she felt the same.

She still reads to him, even if he'd finally gotten around to learning the language, and had even gone as far as to read the books from years previously. Personally he didn't mind the thought of being the demon in those stories, even if he _knows_ his angel thinks she's the demon.

Lately though, the tales she's been reading were a bit more… descriptive. Several times, she'd leave him with problems, and a permanent blush with the way she curled her words, wrapping them around the less than appropriate literature for public, even by Isle standards.

Puberty, he figured, was bad enough with the hormonal influx making him want. There was no need to add his angel, his want_,_ speaking of such sins and… and… _needs_ like that.

He was going to die when she started getting involved with others. She was going to be walking sin, and making them want, want, _want._

He remembers pulling away and trying desperately to find space to breath, and most importantly, to not impose his _wants _on her. He'd rather die than taint his angel.

It was working too, or so he thought.

He'd been sitting behind hell hall, flipping the lighter he'd lifted from his mother's things years ago, when she came. If that was what she looked like when she'd saved him years ago… well he'd count his blessings.

He'd been nervous, her silent eyes following him, neither demanding nor forcing him to speak on why he'd gone and started to _avoid _her.

She watched him the noise of the night being forgotten, his lighter held still, his angel to his own demons. It's like a snap of thunder as she finally moves, her eyes only on his, whatever she'd been searching for from him found. She's on her knees in front of him when she finally speaks, they aren't words for him, just a quiet prayer, her voice had been filled with hurt and relief that made him ache.

He'd hurt his angel.

But his thoughts didn't really pass that point as soft, ever so soft lips covered his, hands threading into his hair as she pulls them together. Her body slotted between his own legs.

It hadn't mattered after that how they'd gotten there, if it was his want, or hers. He'd just been so fucking high on endorphins to care.

At eighteen, their letters from Auardon had come, and his angel, his sweet, sweet angel, just smiled at Maleficent, taking the envelopes ever so delicately in her hands. She'd grown too, now more than ever people feared herr as she stood at six feet tall. She was terrifying.

He remembers the demands to get a wand from Maleficent, and Cruella's pleas that he stay and look after her furs. He really didn't care too much who else was coming with only that they would be going together.

He doesn't listen to Cruella, and he doesn't even have the patience to even attempt to speak with Maleficent, honestly the lizard was the least of his worries.

He remembers whispering his concerns on his angels skin as they lay together in the early rays of morning. How could he, a demon, ever hope to fool them.

The soft smile he spots on her lips as she leans over him, made him forget for a moment. And every kiss and word after that makes it not matter as she tears apart his evidence that he'll be caught, and ruin all their chances.

He's known for years that she's been by his side, his one true angel, and he's known for years the kinds of sin her words promise, the kinds for sin her tongue _crafts_. It doesn't mean he's any less likely to not be completely consumed by the feelings she makes him feel.

At eighteen, he really hopes Auradon is to blind to their sin, the plans she's got.

When they finally reach Auradon, Carlos has to do his best to not lash out at the prince whom's absolutely lost for his angel. He does his best to be skittish, to look absolutely pitiful in a too big body for a boy so _scared._

It works, and people flock to him, like the girls did years ago before his angel took him away. The give him pity, and they give him kindness. His demon safely hidden, just as she said it would be.

He wishes he could be the _monster_ she helped him become at times. Ben was much to _involved_ in her life for his liking. Oh the wonders when Jay can vacate their shared room pulling the princess away with him when the scales tip.

At least one of them isn't fooled.

He remembers his angel descending upon him in the room, whisked back from whatever date she'd attended. She looked radiant, even if a bit out of character.

He remembers mouthing words on her neck as he finally pulls her into his arms, the absolute tension of strung out emotions as a prince gets to take her away.

His body slackens as she pushes him back and back and back until he's seated on the bed and she can rest between his thighs bending his neck to look up at her. Her smile is bliss as she tells him all the reasons he's not Ben, and all the things she wants to do to him.

Yeah he's eighteen, and he's still a sex crazed, hormonal teenager, who's got a mad jealousy streak.

But his angel never seemed to mind, though he secretly hopes she's just as lost for him as he is her.

He's twenty-one now, and he's so proud of his angel_._ She looks fucking radiant in her black ensemble, it's hard to believe some days that he's the older one, when she's always been the one saving him.

He swears she stole his heart again as he sees her smile when she notices him.

"The last of Auradon's resistance is bridging the nether fields." He whispers before kissing her softly.

And his beautiful angel smiles, "We best not keep them waiting then, my demon."

"My _Angel_." He mumbles against her lips happily..

The distant chant of their people as Maleficent rallies her daughters army was never a dream Carlos had.

No, Carlos didn't dream, he hoped, and later her learned to pray. And it was all thanks to his _wife_ and angel, Maleficent de Vil.


End file.
